


Lovely

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Lactation Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Fallout Kink Meme. Prompt: Craig and Carla before everything went to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovely

Lovely.  
  
It wasn't a word that sat comfortably in Craig Boone's vocabulary, but there it was: lovely. Carla was lovely, and he told her so.  
  
She threw a pillow at him, batting it away as he tossed back at her. "You're a bad liar, but I love you for it."  
  
He briskly rubbed the damp towel over his scalp, the last droplets of his bath scoured away by clean cotton. "You know I can't lie to you," he said, voice muffled. "Too lovely to lie to."  
  
She threw the other pillow him. "Liar."  
  
"Lovely," he said again, throwing the towel haphazardly back into the bathroom. He'd deal with it later, more intent on crawling across the bed to where his wife was scrounging around for something else to lob in his direction, her lopsided grin almost as entrancing as the full swell of her belly.  
"My lovely, lovely wife, with her lovely, lovely bad aim."  
  
"Your lovely, lovely wife is feeling very unlovely," she said, patting the coverlet next to her. "I feel like a Brahmin about to calf."  
  
"Prettiest Brahmin in all of Novac," he said, settling at her side. "Did you see Strauss this morning?"  
  
She made a _mhmm_ sound, arranging the pillows at her back. "She came by early this morning. Said I've got a couple of weeks, maybe three." There was a pause. "If we were in Vegas…"  
  
Craig caught her hand, squeezed it. The _what ifs_ hurt. If they were in Vegas, they'd be in Westside, eking out a hard-scrabble existence. He'd be in the militia, bored. If they were in Vegas, they'd live in a walk-up Freeside apartment with four locks on the door and a shotgun behind the couch. He'd be a nobody security guard, working eight-on-three-off and hoping he'd get promoted high enough to get employee accommodation. If they were in Vegas, the Followers would be a few blocks away with their reassuring bedside manner and tidy doctors bags, close enough if there was an emergency. _What if._  
  
Here was just Novac. _What if_.  
  
"I know," he said, squeezing her hand again. "I know."  
  
She shook her head and patted her stomach. "She's been kicking like mad since you got home."  
  
"Yeah?" He pressed his cheek to the hard curve of her stomach, chuckling when a sharp little elbow found his jaw. "Just like you. Elbows me in her sleep and doesn't say sorry."  
  
Craig turned a little, pressing his mouth to the hard nubbin of her belly button and kissing the dark line that crept high towards her ribs.  
"Lovely," he said again, pushing the hem of her shirt - his shirt, an old red thing he thought he'd thrown out months ago - higher until she took it from him, pulling it over her head and tossing it into the corner of the room.  
  
Carla beckoned him up and he settled at her side, a hand still tracing her belly like he'd forget it entirely if he let her go for just a second. She just sighed a little and settled back into the pillows, her mouth hungry against his as they kissed, slow and languorous.  
  
"I was reading a book," he said when they parted, not attempting to hide his admiration of her kiss-flushed mouth. "Said there's something I can help you with in the last few weeks."  
  
She ran a hand down his arm, squeezed his bicep and laughed as he flexed a little. "Help me out of the tub? Don't make fun of my ankles?"  
  
"I like helping you in the bath," he said, stopping to kiss her again. She caught his hand and pressed it to her breast, making a breathy hitched sound as he thumbed her nipple. "Means I get to see you naked. And I like your ankles. I liked them skinny and I like them… now."  
  
She pinched him in retaliation.  
  
"You gonna let me be helpful?" He raised his eyebrows and shuffled down the bed, and any questions she had were put to the side as he scraped his unshaven cheek against the swell of her breast, rough fingertips gently kneading at her flesh as he caught her nipple between windburnt lips and sucked hard.  
  
Carla reflexively clutched at his head, nails catching on his freshly shaved scalp and holding him to her. She always liked the attention he paid to her breasts, liked the way he licked up the hard bone valley between them with broad strokes of his tongue and took the weight of them in his hands, pinching her nipples or nipping at them with careful teeth. He drew more of her nipple into his mouth, lips flush to her areola, humming as she clutched him harder.  
  
He lifted his head a moment and looked up at her, with just that little hint of amusement playing in the corner of his eyes. "Said that you could kickstart the milk… thing weeks ahead of time. Extra something or other. Starts with C. Col-something. Good for the baby. Good for you."  
  
She tapped him on the nose. "And this benefits you how?"  
  
Craig just smiled that mysterious knowing smile that was reserved solely for her. "Can't a man be prepared? Want you in top shape for our little girl. Besides, I--" and he punctuated his sentence with another long, hard suck, chuckling into milky soft skin as she made that little half-moan again, "--have some interest in it myself." He ducked her gaze after that, toying intently with the rounded curve of her breast as if expecting censure once his meaning had fully sunk in.  
Carla propped herself up on one elbow and caught his chin, making him meet her gaze. If the twin spots of color high on his cheeks weren't a give-away as to his excitement at the prospect of suckling at his wife, his erection, hot and heavy against his thigh, spoke volumes more.  
  
 _What if._  
  
She just gave him that same knowing smile in return and tugged him back to her breasts, sighing with pleasure as he sucked at one and kneaded at the other. The baby kicked and she let her eyes drift shut, lulled by the rhythmic push-pull of Craig's mouth as he nursed like a pup at the teat.  
  
Time drifted for both of them, cocooned in their little room with morning sunlight leaking around the blinds. A noise outside, a thump from upstairs, something finally pierced the sleepy daydream they were both caught in.

"Hey," he said softly, her sleepy expression and hand on her belly making a chorus of _what if_ start up in the back of his mind. "Still with me?"  
  
He crawled back up her side and kissed her hard, hungry, his hand tracing a lazy route from breast to belly to the curly dusting of hair crowning her sex. Her legs parted in clear invitation and he kissed her again, swallowing up the little grunt of surprise she let slip when his touch was too bold, too quick.

"I have a surprise," he said, his serious expression a counterpoint to the pleasure he was giving her. "I was going to save it, but... I dunno. Seems like the right time. I spoke to Jeannie-May about taking over that last bungalow. Said I'd buy it from her and fix it up myself, tap into the hot water and run some lights." He flicked his thumb over her clitoris and his mouth quirked just a little in smug pride when Carla gasped his name.

"Know you don't like this place too much, but... yeah. Four walls of our own. Space for you."

"Craig," said Carla, her breathing shallow.

"Yeah?"

"You have no sense of – _oh –_ timing." She gasped his name again and came against his fingers; a slow, rolling orgasm that washed over her in gentle waves.

He gave her some space for a few moments, blindly groping around on the floor to find a discarded pillow, tucking it flush to her side so she could roll over with a little comfort. Carla just wiggled her hips and glanced over her shoulder, cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.

"Tsk. So much fussing. Why weren't you this attentive when we were dating?"

He just laughed a little and shook his head, pressing firmly against her back and gently hooking her leg over his thigh. She shifted a little and reached back, tugging at his hipbone until his cock was sliding over her clit with each lazy roll of his hips.

"Too terrified," he whispered into her ear. "Miss Carla Jones was going to eat me alive."

"Mmph," she said. "And look at you now."

"I got brave," he said, watching over her shoulder as she reached awkwardly over the mass of baby to guide his cock to her entrance. "Brave and lucky."

They took their time and honored an unspoken agreement to relish their last days as just Craig and Carla, two people tangled together without anything more pressing in their lives than each other. There was no rush, just a bed and a couple and the knowledge that they had nothing to do after this but sleep and maybe do it all again before work called.

She took his hand in hers and settled it between her thighs, their fingers laced together as she stroked and teased herself to another gentle orgasm. Craig was content to let her set the pace, always pleased to be guided to her pleasure as he lazily fucked her with shallow, slow thrusts. She came quickly, muscles clamping down on his cock until he stilled, body held tense, face pressed to her neck as he fought the urge to let go and find his own release.  
Carla giggled and deliberately bore down on him until he made a strangled sound. She did it again and he set his teeth to her shoulder, doing a poor job of hiding his own silent laughter.

"I've been doing some reading of my own," she said breathlessly, drawing her own fingers back to her core. "Enthusiastic sex can bring on labor. Did you know that? I bet you didn't know that."

He took it as a challenge, looping an arm under her thigh and fucking her as hard as he dared, soaking up every pant and moan and twitch of her hips until that hot sensation uncoiled in his belly and he spent himself with one last punishing thrust, breathing in her clean Carla smell and thinking all the while, _what if what if._

\---

They lay together in comfortable silence after that, the muffled noises of daytime Novac going unnoticed in their little room. She grimaced and rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder, ignoring the mock-pained sound he made when she let the solid bulk of baby belly rest squarely on him. He carded his fingers through her hair and stared at the ceiling, thinking about what he'd have to do to make the bungalow a house. Their home.

Carla's steady breaths skittered across his chest, reliable as the sun, and when he slyly judged her to be too sleepy to swat him away he pinched and rolled a tender nipple and teased forth a creamy drop of golden colostrum, licking it from his fingertips and going back for more until she giggled and called for mercy.

"Lovely," he said and kissed her awkwardly, lips pressed to her forehead. He was nothing but gentle this time, big warm hands cupping her face and tangling through her hair. "Can't get enough of you."

"There's more than enough of me to get," she mumbled into his chest, and shrieked with laughter when he pinched her bottom in reply.

\---

Reality soon asserted itself. The baby had dropped low in the past week or so, putting pressure on Carla's hips and spine that left her as close to crying as Craig had ever seen her. He ran her a bath and patiently helped her in and out again, orbiting the room and making it halfway presentable as she soaked the aches away as best she could. Dinner was simple, eaten naked on top of the sheets as they listened to the morning news. They discussed the bungalow, discussed the money, discussed Jeannie-May's reluctance to give up a little piece of her kingdom even with 500 cap down payment.

"She'll come around," said Craig, and Carla pulled a face.

"Maybe," she said, and mopped up the last of the potato stew with a piece of soda bread. "Maybe. I hope so."


End file.
